


When It Rains...

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M, Samifer - Freeform, Team Fuck Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Lucifer decide to spend the rest of the day in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When It Rains...

**Author's Note:**

> _This is for Team Fuck Lucifer event._
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of services. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

There’s rain pouring and it’s creating a foot deep trench of mud outside, a unanimous agreement made without interacting that today would be spent inside. Even from his room Sam can hear the sound of rain, faint but there, the rumbles of thunder making itself known whenever Sam feels the storm has passed. 

It staves off his hunger and ritualistic grab of morning caffeine, instead only making his eyelids feel heavy and turn to the cooler spots on his pillow. It’s a relief the being next to him kisses the uncomfortable heat of his cheek away, having been buried into his pillow for hours upon hours away. It pulls and sinks him back into another hour of sleep.

There’s a being that can break bones with an afterthought and rip open gods with a simple sigh, curled up next to him. Sam knows there’s no need for the archangel to sleep, but he’ll stretch his limbs and ease into a false state of REM sleep, regardless. He’ll sigh through his nose and shift about on the bed for him. He’ll curl his fingers into the fabric of the sheets and toes stretch when imitating waking up from sleep. He’ll mumble for one more hour of sleep through sleep-sluggish speech. 

Sam’s baffled — if not terrified — of the cosmic being deciding to spend nonsensical hours imitating the needs and habits of humanity to comfort him. He wonders if Lucifer emerged from the pit learning how to move fluidly through his vessel, pick apart pieces of comforting language and pop culture references out of the sole purpose of communicating to Sam in a easy and relatable manner? There is a sensation of smallness. Not because he felt he was insignificant, but that Lucifer gives him so much and he gives back so little.

A cold nose pushes into his neck, digging into his Adam’s apple, shifting insistently until it finds the spot where jaw and neck meet. “Sam, you’re being ridiculous,” the Devil mumbles against his neck, words drawled and slow. 

Sam gives a grumble and twists to his side, purposely letting his knee knock into the archangel’s thigh. “Are you reading my thoughts again?” It’s nearly accusatory but it’s tainted with the relief in his voice, itching and aching to talk about this. 

“You are projecting loudly,” Lucifer returns gently, opening one eye to stare at his counterpart, the other half of his face submerged into the pillow. A moment of silence passes before Sam hears a muffled, “Sam, you give me too much. It’s humbling.” 

Sam’s lips pull into a brief smile, falling back into an unconvinced expression before his brows are furrowing. The smile creeps back on and Sam twists closer towards the blond, letting his legs tangle with Lucifer’s. “Did you just…” he begins with a sudden coy brightness in his voice, “Lucifer feeling humbled?” 

Lucifer huffs, closing the lone eye and making a face, “I can be humble.” 

Sam is quick to press his mouth into the corner of the archangel’s frown, laughing midway through until Lucifer makes a disbelieving sound. “Just for me,” Sam laughs and the archangel makes another sound. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he quips back without missing a beat, turning his head more towards Sam, his own frown melting into a helpless smile as Sam continues to pepper his lips with laughing kisses. “Or is it too late?” 

“Too late,” Sam growls out with a grin against Lucifer’s lips, pulling the teasing kiss into something deeper. Lucifer’s body goes slack and sinks into the bed, a hand being moved to rest under the crook of the hunter’s jaw, touch light. Sam revels in the control, easily relinquished and feeling the archangel respond with his demanding kisses with molasses-esque asides formed as answering kisses. It’s a push and feeding of touch, the blond’s tongue slurring in Sam’s mouth, feeling a trapped groan vibrating through the roof of his mouth till it drips down his throat. 

It makes Sam grab at him more. Push his fingers deeper into his skin. Kiss harder, pushing his tongue into Lucifer’s mouth until even he, greedily, sucks on his tongue when he pulls back for air. Pull him closer to him until their bodies are more a tangled mess of limbs then two distinct bodies. Sam doesn’t recall when he shoved his mouth into Lucifer’s neck. When he sucked on his Adam’s apple until it was flushed pink and slick with saliva. It leaves him breathless, heaving for air and pushing himself up. 

Breathless and a bit scared. Scared about how he could let go with Lucifer and it’s okay. Even Ruby has a breaking point, but Lucifer is unbreakable. 

The blond lets his fingers run across Sam’s side, lips swollen and eyes half-lidded, watching his fingers climb across Sam’s skin. Sam takes a deep breath before leaning down, giving a solitary kiss onto those swollen lips before gently pushing a knee into Lucifer’s side. 

“Turn over,” Sam breathes out, clearing his throat before repeating it. Lucifer doesn’t even bat an eye, just carefully untangles his limbs from sheets and Sam before wiggling onto his stomach. 

Sam crawls over and sits on the archangel’s backside, earning a muffled grumble but nothing more. Lucifer’s back is a scarred story around his shoulder blades, written in raised lines of flesh that have healed over and over an ancient wound. It took time for the archangel to associate touch on his back as a positive. To turn the sensitive and alive nerve endings — like live wire — into something that sends him reeling with bliss instead of offense. But Sam doesn’t have the patience to tease, dipping down to drag his tongue across the curve of his left shoulder blade. 

It’s instantaneous. A punched sound and hips digging into the mattress, Sam feeling the archangel’s lower half sink. Sam leaves wet paths across his skin, muscles in the archangel’s back beginning to tremble followed with heady whines. To hear the smooth and enigmatic drawl of Lucifer’s voice break and rise in pitch around the edges makes him rock his hips, grinding against Lucifer’s back. 

Fingers curl into the fabric of the pillow, Lucifer’s eyes fluttering to a close when teeth graze at the outline of a particularly thick scar. Skin always sensitive surrounding each scar, always managing to leave him shaking in his own vessel, spiked with sudden self-awareness. He feels heat pooling down to his pubic bone, trapped between mattress and Sam’s pinning weight. He can feel Sam’s cock through Sam’s sweatpants, grinding against the curve of his backside. It doesn’t take long till the hunter is nearly laying on top of him, hips keeping a steady pace, breathing hotly into the spot between his shoulder blades. 

Sam’s mouth latches onto the patch of skin and the hunter listens to his name being moaned out, hips trying to rise from underneath him. 

The brunette, finally, pushes himself off, sitting up on his knees as he hastily pushes down his sweatpants he threw on last night. Lucifer remains put, boxers riding up from Sam’s movements, only his hips shifting here and there. He only lifts his hips when instructed, Sam helping him out of his underwear and digging his fingers into the flesh of his backside. Sam’s aware of the head turned his way, frostbitten eye watching him intently. 

There’s still old bruises. Old marks from last night, where he dug his thumbs into both cheeks and held him open. He moves his thumbs further down, letting the pad of his thumb graze across his entrance, earning a drawn out sound from the archangel. The sound morphs into a grunt when slips the tip of his thumb in, slipping in with ease. Just as he expected, the blond is still loose from before. Lucifer only lifts his hips, taking more of Sam’s finger. Sam watches his finger disappear — “ _Lucifer._ ” 

It was meant to be scolding but it came out strained, earning a low chuckle from underneath him and the archangel’s hips sinking back into the mattress. Leaning to his side to rummage through the debris on the floor beside the bed, he grabbed a poorly abused bottle of lube. Still slick about the sides and making it difficult to hold. 

Lucifer is moving, twisting onto his back before Sam can protest. The blond’s bare chest is flushed from the warmth of the bed, markings of twisted sheets leaving imprints across his torso. “I want to watch,” he explains lowly and Sam can feel his ears burn, giving a hurried nod. 

It takes a while for him to pop the cap out, pouring a healthy amount on his palm before closing it, letting the bottle be lost in the mess on the ground for later. It’s lukewarm in his hands, rubbing it between his palms and excess falling on the archangel’s thighs. Slowly he coats himself, letting his each hand curl around the base of his cock and coat it with lube with a simple pull. He repeats with each hand, rubbing himself down and breathing, rather noisily, through his mouth. 

His hips stutter, finding it difficult to concentrate with the archangel watching him, languidly letting his own hands rub and massage the inside of his own thighs. Often the fingers would drift, palming himself before rubbing teasing circles across his entrance, more of a glorified show to distract Sam than anything else. There’s a smirk being weaseled onto the blond’s lips, “I’m sorry, should I turn around? Close my eyes?” 

The hunter scowls, his hands parting from his cock to flip Lucifer back over. Sam doesn’t bother to warn the sniggering archangel who is trying to make himself comfortable, once again, on his stomach. He digs his fingers into the archangel and guides himself in, listening to the archangel’s amused noises drift into a series of grunts at the intrusion. 

Like this he can watch the bend of Lucifer’s back, already collecting sweat in the dip around the lower sections. He can watch the archangel bite into the pillow, fingers curling into the fitted sheet. Sam lowers his body further, slipping an arm around the archangel’s neck until his forearm can feel Lucifer’s Adam’s apple dig back. His free hand finds Lucifer’s, threading his fingers through his before picking up the pace. 

Sam buries his mouth into Lucifer’s shoulder, pushing himself with ease into the archangel, feeling him shake and shudder underneath him. Lucifer finally unlatches his teeth from the pillow, a throaty sound pushing its way past the pressure of Sam’s forearm. 

Sam wants to kiss him, but he can only get to the corner of the archangel’s mouth in this position. Unlacing his fingers with Lucifer’s, he slips his arm around the archangel’s torso and lifts him up. 

Rocking back on his haunches, he keeps Lucifer pinned to him, feeling his hands reaching back to grab at his sides for support. If Lucifer turns his head just right, he can press a starving kiss against his lips, thrusting upward into the surprising warmth of the archangel. There’s strangled sounds leaving the archangel with each upward thrust, Sam’s forearm mutilating all sound, leaving it ragged and raw. 

Sam ached for a mirror — something in which he can see what Lucifer looked like from the front. He can only imagine the blood rising up to his skin around his neck and cheeks from his firm chokehold, muscles in his stomach moving and trembling, the splash of color across the tip of his cock, leaking precum as it continues to be ignored and parted, pink lips that have been swollen and wrecked with every kiss he has placed upon it. 

It doesn’t take long before his hips stutter in its pace, tightening his hold before he spills into the blond with a shout. It fades into a relieving moan, rocking his hips forward before coming to a gentle halt. Releasing his hold on Lucifer, he carefully slips out of the blond, watching with gratuitous pleasure cum slip out him. Lucifer gives a hoarse moan when he runs the pad of his thumb across his entrance but nothing else, unceremoniously flopping forward onto the bed in exhaustion. 

The bed is a mess, the archangel making it increasingly worse by twisting about in the sheets, dripping over the fitted sheet underneath him. It leaves Sam a bit winded, watching the debauched blond stretch and ease himself into relaxed state, or rather, shamelessly display himself. 

“We really got to wash the sheets now,” Sam mutters, crawling over to place a warm kiss on each corner of Lucifer’s birthing smirk. “You know, I thought we were supposed to spend the day in bed.” 

The archangel pulls his shoulder blades back until their is a satisfying pop, fingers reaching out to find Sam’s. He gives a wicked grin and replies with worn vocal chords: 

“Last time I checked, there is more than one bed in the bunker.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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